


Cut Away My Very Soul

by Lokiscribe



Category: Inhumans (TV 2017), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ableism, Angst, Betrayal, Despair, Gen, Head Shaving, Humiliation, Misogyny, Non-Consensual Haircuts, Treason, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 03:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokiscribe/pseuds/Lokiscribe
Summary: Maximus has shaved Medusa's head to ensure she cannot prevent his takeover of Attilan. This generates a wealth of thoughts and emotions for both of them. None are very positive.





	Cut Away My Very Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my wonderful friend/beta David for all the help he gave me in editing and writing! At least 2 phrases in this story are his words, not mine, and many other sentences appear here only after receiving his approval.

Medusa didn’t move from the place where Maximus left her, staring numbly at the ground for an indeterminate amount of time. It might have been minutes, it might have been hours. She neither knew nor cared. All she could do was listen to the sound of her own harsh breathing as she knelt on the cold, cement floor, slumped over in defeat. Shock had consumed her; she could do nothing but sit there, panting, pain lapping at her like a rising tide as she pressed her clenched fists into the concrete. She couldn’t bring herself to touch her head, to confirm that her defining feature had been shorn away. _Maximus_ had shorn it away. Anger swirled up inside of her, and she had to stifle a mournful cry before the sound could travel too far. There was no way in hell she'd allow that traitor to know how she suffered. 

_I’ll kill him,_ she swore to herself. _Black Bolt’s brother or not, I will kill him with my own hands._

Then the full implications of the situation dawned on her, and her head shot up in a sudden lurch of fear. _Black Bolt!_ Where was he? Did Maximus have him? Would he hurt him? 

Her eyes tracked wildly across the room, heart rate escalating as she began to panic. She wanted to believe that Maximus wouldn’t kill his own brother, but her instincts told her that was exactly what he would do if he thought it necessary for the success of his coup. If Black Bolt hadn’t received her message or otherwise become aware of the attempted takeover, Maximus would know exactly where to find him. Maybe he had even taken care of Black Bolt first, before he got to Medusa.

In despair, she forgot herself and tried to place her head on her hands, only to feel the remnants of hair on her shaven skull prick her palms. Gasping, she ran her fingers across her scalp. She had not yet seen her reflection, only the mass of discarded red locks on the floor in front of her. She had sensed that her prized hair no longer felt alive, no longer obeyed her will, but now she thoroughly understood why. There was hardly anything left. She, a queen, sporting hair artlessly buzzed like that of a lowly commoner! Humiliation washed over her, hot and intense, and her head fell once again, shoulders drooping in defeat. Tears came forth, running down her cheeks as she wept for the loss of her hair and her husband. 

To her horror, the _clunk_ of a metal door suddenly reverberated through the air, followed by footsteps. She wiped hastily at her tears, hoping her eyes were not too red, but to her relief, it was only four members of the royal guard, apparently sent to retrieve her. They had no right to treat their _queen_ in such a way, and they would pay with their lives, just as the usurper would, but at least Maximus himself had not seen her in her moment of greatest weakness. 

“Traitors!” she growled as they hauled her up by her arms. “You’ll hang for this, all of you.” One of the men grinned. “Your reign has ended, Medusa. And once we capture your husband, so will his.” 

Medusa’s eyes widened. “You haven’t captured Black Bolt? Where is he? Does Maximus know where he is?” She was met with no answer, but the guard’s slip of the tongue was sufficient to set her mind at ease. Black Bolt had thus far managed to evade his brother’s clutches. He was safe, at least for now. But how long would it last? As her escorts dragged her away, she realized with an intensifying dread that no one could hide within the confines of Attilan forever. 

Sooner or later, Maximus would find him. And most likely kill him. 

*****

Maximus walked slowly into the room where, only an hour earlier, he’d personally shaved Medusa’s head. The red locks still lay upon the floor, looking strangely wrong now that they were no longer affixed to the queen’s skull. The _former_ queen, he reminded himself. 

Why couldn’t she just have submitted? Why couldn’t she just _love him?_ Human or not, he was the same person he’d been before their terragenesis. As children, they’d been thick as thieves, hardly spending a moment apart. And while he’d been too scared to tell her when they were young, Maximus had always loved her. He always would. But any chance of her reciprocating those feelings seemingly vanished after terragenesis rendered him a mere human. There had instantly been a change in way she looked at him, as though he made her uncomfortable – perhaps even disgusted her. And so she’d sought refuge with his _brother_. His brother! The ineffectual brute couldn’t even talk! How could she possibly have fallen in love with someone incapable of speaking to her? But she had, and now it was as if she and Black Bolt understood no one but each other, as if they cared about no one but themselves. They were utterly oblivious to the dangers around them; completely blinded to the injustice of Attilan’s social structure. 

It had brought about their downfall. 

Bending down into a crouch, he lifted a thick section of Medusa’s discarded mane. It had given him no pleasure to cut her hair, none in the least. In fact, it had hurt him a great deal to know the pain it would cause her. She would never forgive him, she’d said. And he believed her wholeheartedly. But the act had been necessary to preserve his newfound authority. Necessary for the good of the people of Attilan. 

He clenched his jaw angrily. It was her fault! She’d _made_ him do it. He hadn’t wanted to. He loved the color and the power and the beauty of her hair. Even as the living tendrils had suffocated him, rejected him, thrown him to the ground - they were still mesmerizing. How he wished he could be the one to run his hands through those locks each night and day, to hear her whispered words of affection… The odds had long been stacked against him, and now he could be certain it would never happen. He’d sacrificed any chance of winning her love in order to do right by the lower caste among whom he would have lived were it not for his royal blood. 

He knew he’d made the right choice, but still he had to quell the wave of despair that threatened to seize him. He refused to give into it, instead channeling his emotion into anger. Seizing all of the red hair into his arms, Maximus stormed back to his quarters, shoving the door open with such venom that it impacted the wall beyond with a loud _BANG_. He hardly noticed the resounding clash, fully fixated on storming to the hearth and throwing the mass of hair inside. Normally he would have called for a servant to light a fire, but in his rage, he wasted no time in igniting the blaze himself. Not until the haunting locks began to blacken and dissolve into ash did he feel somewhat calmer. It was cathartic somehow, destroying part of the woman who would never love him. He hadn’t enjoyed shaving Medusa’s hair, but it felt good to watch it burn. 

*****

The guards brought Medusa to the apartment she shared with Black Bolt, pushing her inside and locking the door. A spark of hope came alive inside of her that maybe he was here; maybe Maximus had imprisoned him, too. It was a selfish desire, but she wanted desperately to fall into the arms of her husband and sob against his shoulder. The day had been traumatic in multiple ways. 

Wearily, she made her way into the bedroom and laid eyes upon the mattress, covers still turned down from their morning lovemaking only hours earlier. She could still feel the warmth of his skin, envision his kiss and imagine his hands stroking her arms, gripping possessively at her waist as they fucked... Pained, she averted her eyes, fiddling with her wrists in sadness. 

What was she to do now? Was she to live out her days alone in these rooms, without any way to pass the time? Could she survive that? Probably. But she hardly wanted to, not without Black Bolt. If Maximus found and killed her beloved husband, she might as well be dead herself. There would be nothing to live for. 

She just wanted him _near_ to her, or to at least know where he was; know for certain that he was safe. Medusa found herself approaching his side of the bed, fingers trailing across the sheets and over his pillowcase. She tried to picture him there, looking up at her with his affectionate smile and signing _I love you_ , but it wasn’t the same as having him here in the flesh. 

She might never see him again, she realized. Fatigue swiftly overwhelmed her at the thought, and she collapsed onto the bed, curling into a ball in the spot where Black Bolt had last lain. It felt foreign to lie on short hair and even more so to not feel the energy pulsating throughout her scalp, ready to direct every strand of hair to do her bidding. She wondered how much it would have to grow before she could command it again. Quite a lot, she thought to herself as she touched her head again. Maximus really had taken all of it. 

A single tear ran down her right cheek, and she buried her nose in Black Bolt’s pillow, breathing in his scent in an attempt to hold onto whatever part of him she could. _I miss you_ , she whispered sadly, allowing further tears to blur her vision. _Perhaps I’ll just sleep,_ she decided. If Maximus intended to keep her isolated here, she’d be doing a lot of it anyway. Might as well start now. 

She gave in to her exhaustion and allowed merciful slumber to provide her a reprieve.


End file.
